


Puppy Tails - Chicken pox

by Aurora_bee



Series: Puppy tails [41]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Chicken Pox, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Public Sex, Puppies, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-07 10:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_bee/pseuds/Aurora_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's scratching and grumpy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Sherlock you getting up this morning?” John shouted knocking on Sherlock’s bedroom door. All he got was a loud grunt in response. John put the kettle on then put some food down for Gladstone. There was movement now in Sherlock’s bedroom. Satan was finally rising from his pit, John giggled to himself. Sherlock came out of his room stormed into the sitting room and flopped on the sofa. John finished making the tea, wandered over to the coffee table and put a cup in front of Sherlock. He didn’t look his usual energetic self and he was scratching his scalp viciously.

“Are you alright Sherlock?” John asked concerned, Sherlock sat up, almost breathless.

“No, I’m not alright, I’m too hot, I have a headache and I think Gladstone has given me fleas.” Sherlock sipped his tea. “Urg.. and this tea isn’t good.”

“Gladstone has not given you fleas, come here.” John took sat on the coffee table took hold of Sherlock’s head running his fingers through his hair parting it to see the scalp. “Ah, Sherlock, have you ever had chicken pox?”

“I don’t know.” Sherlock replied annoyed. “I suppose mummy or Mycroft might know.” John picked up his phone and texted Mycroft.

“Stop scratching it Sherlock.” John said batting Sherlock’s hand away from his head. “Have you got any spots anywhere else?”

“Yes.” Sherlock lifted his t-shirt up. Little blisters had formed all around his tummy. John’s phone beeped.

“Looks like you neither of you have had it. Better stay away from Mycroft for a couple of weeks.” John said putting his phone down next to him.

“Oh, what a pity.” Sherlock grinned, starting to scratch again. 

“Sherlock stop that now or I’ll have to put scratch mittens on you. Either that or handcuff you to the bed.” John couldn’t help but blush, secretly he quite liked the thought of Sherlock being handcuffed to his bed.

“John that’s not very professional now is it.” Sherlock started to scratch his face and John grabbed his hands.

“Oh no you don’t, they’ll leave marks if you scratch them.” John didn’t like the thought of blemishes on his Sherlock. “Look I’ll have to pop to the chemists to get some things for you. I promise it’ll help with the itch. Just promise me you won’t scratch.” John stood up and put his coat on. “Take some paracetamol and drink something.” He bent forward and placed a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead, his temperature was definitely high.

 

It was really difficult not to scratch when he was alone. He got up took his t-shirt off and put the fan on. It wasn’t as if it was a hot day but he was burning up. The spots on his stomach were starting to look like blisters now. It hurt and all he could think about was scratching. He walked over to the sink filled a glass with water and downed a couple of paracetamol. John was taking ages, and he didn’t know how long he could last.

“Come on Gladstone.” He said making his way to the bathroom. Maybe a warm bath would help. 

Sherlock ran the water as he checked the instructions on his shampoo. It didn’t say anything about not using it if you had chicken pox. He dismissed it preferring not to take the risk. He gave Gladstone a good scratch and turned the taps off. He dipped his hand in, perfect lukewarm. Sherlock dropped his pyjama bottoms and slipped into the inviting water.

“Ahhh….” He slid down, immersing his head in the lovely water. Gladstone hopped up on the toilet seat so he could see his uncle Sherlock. He woofed not liking the fact he was under the water.

 

John got in the front door to hear Gladstone barking. Shopping bag in hand he ran up the stairs. 

“Gladstone? Sherlock?” He ran into the bathroom. Sherlock was under the water his eyes open unnaturally. John panicked grabbed Sherlock by the armpits and pulled him up. “Sherlock?” John pulled back and looked into Sherlock’s eyes, he looked really pissed off.

“John.” Sherlock replied annoyed. John took his now drenched jacket off, and shooed Gladstone into the living room.

“Sorry Sherlock, for a moment I thought you were ah.. Anyway I think I might have something you might enjoy in your bath.” 

“The bath’s not big enough for both of us.” Sherlock replied, John smiled happily his heart fluttering in response and went into the kitchen. Sherlock sighed, he would have liked John to join him perhaps they could get a bigger bath, he’d have to talk to Mrs Hudson about that. John returned holding one of his socks. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in confusion. John soaked the sock in his bathwater, plumes coming out of it making the water turn a milky white. “Why on earth are you putting one of your old socks in my bath water?” Sherlock exclaimed. John giggled taking the sock and rubbing it along Sherlock’s spine.

“It has porridge oats in it. It’s a remedy people use to stop the itching.” Sherlock’s eyes widened in distaste.

“I don’t want to be covered in Quaker oats!”

 

Sherlock padded into the sitting room. It was amazing, he smelled a little odd but the itching seemed to have dissipated. John sat in his chair waiting, Gladstone on his knee.

“How do you feel now Sherlock?” He asked as Sherlock flopped into his chair. Gladstone jumped off his dad’s lap and went to sniff Sherlock.

“A bit better actually. Still a little warm though.” Sherlock rolled his head on the back of his chair. John looked Sherlock over, a few spots had appeared. John was dreading the next two weeks or so knowing that Sherlock would be bored out of his brain, not be allowed out of the flat.

“Sherlock, you do realise that you’re not going to be able to leave the flat for a while. Not until all the blisters have scabbed over.” John sighed the sad look in Sherlock’s eyes was worrying. “I’m sorry Sherlock there’s nothing we can do.” Sherlock’s lip started to tremble.

“I think I’ll go back to bed.” Sherlock looked down at his leg, Gladstone was licking it wholeheartedly. “I think Gladstone has acquired a taste for porridge.” Sherlock groaned and walked to his room. John watched Gladstone trail behind him.

It broke John’s heart to see Sherlock so down. He grabbed his laptop. Since there was nothing he could do to reverse the problem he could at least alleviate the boredom. He started to type out an email.

 

When John entered Sherlock’s bedroom he was on the bed curled into a fetal position using Gladstone like a teddy bear. The sheets were crumpled on the floor at the end of the bed and there was a sheen of sweat over Sherlock’s face. John opened the windows and lay behind Sherlock. 

“Sherlock?” He said kissing the back of Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock shuddered in response and mumbled something incoherent. “I’ve got some ideas for the next few days. Molly’s going to drop over some bits from the morgue for you soon and I have some movie nights planned.” Sherlock pulled John’s arm around him.

“Sleep.” Sherlock murmured. “Stay here till I fall asleep.” John kissed the top of Sherlock’s head. He could taste the porridge oats.

“Mmm Sherlock I think I’ve developed a taste for you covered in porridge oats.” Sherlock let out a small laugh and squeezed John’s hand.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you John.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's feeling worse, but finds something to distract himself.

Sherlock lay on the sofa, while John sat in his chair watching Austin Powers. Sherlock was staring blankly at the television, not really watching. Chicken pox was really taking it out of him. The itching had started again, John had managed to cover most of the spots with calamine lotion, Sherlock looked like a ghost. John listened to Sherlock’s breathing worrying about the rattle he heard with every intake of breath, he would have to get his stethoscope out and have a listen.

“Sherlock, has Greg called at all?” John asked trying to encourage some conversation. Sherlock turned his head and focused his eyes on John.

“No.” He said his throat grating. “He’s off sick.” John raised an eyebrow, that was odd. Greg was never ill, he grabbed his phone and sent off a text.

“Sherlock, how’s your chest? It doesn’t sound very good.” John asked grabbing his medical bag. Sherlock breathed in and started to cough violently. John sat on the coffee table and gently took Sherlock’s hand. “I think I’d better have a listen. Sherlock lift up your t-shirt for me.” Sherlock obliged with no witty retort, the energy was draining from him by the second. John breathed on his stethoscope and put it on Sherlock’s chest, there was a definite crackle in there. 

“I think you need anti-biotics Sherlock, but I can’t prescribe them for you. Do you have a doctor?” Sherlock closed his eyes in pain.

“Mycroft..” He replied quietly. John ran his hand through Sherlock’s hair, he felt so utterly useless. To the side of him his phone beeped, it was Greg, John laughed as he read the text. 

“Greg has chicken pox too Sherlock, at least we know where you got them from.” John said, Sherlock tried to smile and failed dismally, his eyes screwing up like he was about to cry.

“Why do I feel so ill John? Small children get this and they survive. I feel like I’m dying.” Sherlock sniffed John forced a smile trying to be reassuring. He wasn’t sure who was in more pain, Sherlock, or him. 

“You’re not dying Sherlock, but it is actually more painful for adults to get Chicken pox. Ninety percent of the population have had chicken pox before they’re fifteen. You’re just special Sherlock.” 

“I don’t feel special.” Sherlock retorted with a frown, John kissed his forehead. Then sent a text to Mycroft about the doctor. A few minutes later he had a reply. The doctor would be with them in an hour. 

“We’re going to have to wash the lotion off so the doctor can see the spots properly.” John said pulling Sherlock up off the sofa.

 

Sherlock sat on the toilet with Gladstone on his knee, his head nodding every now and then as he drifted. John turned the shower on allowing the water to run over his hand to check the temperature. John turned to find Sherlock trying to get his t-shirt over his head and failing.

“Here.” John pulled Sherlock’s arms through revealing a mass of white skin. The calamine lotion was nearly the same colour of Sherlock’s pale complexion he was so drained. Sherlock stood up loosening the string on his pyjamas. John looked to the door. “Are you going to be ok on your own Sherlock?” He asked worried that his friend might slip. Sherlock blinked slowly, he wasn’t sure he could stand and wash at the same time in his current condition.

“Would you mind helping me John, you know I wouldn’t normally ask, but I feel so tired.” Sherlock said, looking down at his feet exhausted. John stripped down to his boxers as Sherlock shed his pyjama bottoms.

“Right then.” John said as Sherlock got into the shower. He climbed in behind him putting his hands on Sherlock’s hips where he had less spots to steady him. Sherlock let out a long relived sigh as the water droplets flowed down his body. John passed him a flannel and waited, moving his fingers in small circles. Sherlock groaned as he brushed his skin, it really hurt. John gently rested his head on Sherlock’s back, he could feel tears building up inside, at least Sherlock wouldn’t see him cry with the spray running over them both. Sherlock reached down to one of John’s hands on his hip and squeezed.

 

John managed to help Sherlock get out of the shower, and sat them both on a fluffy towel. Sherlock was limp in his arms as John dried him off.

“John it hurts, please make it stop.” Sherlock whimpered his eyes pleading. John held him close and gently smoothed Sherlock’s hair, he sniffed holding back the tears. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to make his best friend feel better. This must be what it would be like to have children he thought to himself. Sherlock drifted off to sleep, John looked at the clock. He could give him twenty minutes to nap and then get him ready in time for the doctor.

 

Sherlock was dressed in a fresh pair of pyjama bottoms and one of John’s old t-shirts when the doctor arrived. He was still as lethargic but he was managing to drink some orange juice. Dr Jenkins entered with a smile on his face.

“Ah Sherlock, I hear you have chicken pox.” Dr Jenkins was a tall man in his thirties with auburn hair, he had a friendly face and an even friendlier attitude. John was grateful, he hadn’t actually seen anyone except Mrs Hudson briefly for the last few days. Dr Jenkins took Sherlock’s temperature and listened to his chest as John voiced his concerns.

“It sounds like Sherlock has bronchitis. I’m going to prescribe him some anti-biotics. If it gets any worse give me a call and we’ll have another look.” Dr Jenkins handed John his card. “Anytime, night or day I’m on call.” Dr Jenkins handed a prescription to John. “I expect you gave chicken pox to Mycroft, he’s in an awful state with it.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow John sensed a spark of energy building. John showed Dr Jenkins out shaking his hand and grinning, he felt a lot better.

When John returned he found Sherlock had plugged his laptop in and was searching the web. 

“John, what is the incubation period for Chicken pox.” John smiled knowing full well what Sherlock was up to.

“Ten to twenty one days.” John replied, Sherlock looked disappointed.

“I saw Mycroft a month ago, so I didn’t infect him.” Sherlock’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “But I know someone else who’s got chickenpox.” 

“What Greg and Mycroft?” John’s mouth hung open. Sherlock pushed it closed with his index finger, and kissed John’s lips.

“We’ll have to find that out, this is going to be interesting.” Sherlock bounced onto the sofa.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock investigates Greg and Mycroft.

Sherlock had tired himself out that afternoon. All the time trying to find ways to locate both Mycroft and Greg to see if they were together. He drifted asleep his laptop resting on his stomach, snoring quietly. John lifted the laptop off Sherlock and put it on the coffee table. It was the most relaxed he had seen Sherlock for days, it was a relief. He didn’t know how long he could hold out before letting Sherlock see him break down and cry.

John found he was actually curious about the Greg Mycroft thing that may or may not be going on. Greg had never showed an interest in men when he was about. Greg even insisted on trying to make his marriage work when it was obvious even to him that his wife was having an affair. It was just Mycroft, he couldn’t see the attraction, but then he wasn’t actually attracted to men. Just Sherlock. Maybe it was just Holmes brother pheromones, John thought to himself. It was about time he took Gladstone for his walk, and he might just pop around and see how Greg was doing.

 

Gladstone dragged John all the way to Greg’s house, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. John rang the doorbell as Gladstone pee’d on the front step. John was bending down and telling Gladstone off when the door opened. It was Greg’s wife.

“Good afternoon Mrs Lestrade, is Greg in?” She smiled at him as he stood blushing at the fact Gladstone had pee’d on her step.

“Dr Watson isn’t it? No I’m afraid not. Greg’s staying with a friend a while, doesn’t want to give me shingles.” She pulled the door so it was closed behind her. John didn’t normally consider himself to be very observant but he noticed that the television was on Sky sports. Not that a woman wouldn’t watch Sky sports, but the dirty football boots by the front door were a dead give away. 

“Oh sorry about that. Sorry Gladstone pee’d on your step too.” John looked down at the step blushing. “Do you want me to clean that up?”

“No, it’s fine. Looks like it’s about to rain anyway.” John nodded and left. It started to rain. Typical it was as if a rain cloud followed him around some days.

 

Sherlock was still asleep on the sofa when he got back with Gladstone. He decided to make them both some dinner in the hope that Sherlock would eat something. Gladstone looked up at him and whimpered. 

“Go and have a nap, Uncle Sherlock will wake up later and you can play with him then.” Gladstone trotted off his tail between his legs miserable. John cleaned the kitchen surfaces and started to chop up some vegetables. A hearty vegetable soup would do Sherlock some good.

After John had thrown the chopped veg in some water and added some stock cubes he managed to read the paper for a minute before Gladstone jumped up on his lap. He smiled giving Gladstone a head massage. Sherlock stirred on the other side of the room.

“Mmmm.. What’s that smell, it’s nice.” Sherlock mumbled turning over to look at John.

“Some soup. Still needs to cook for a bit longer.” John replied grinning as Sherlock stretched out.

“I’ve been researching something called the ‘ping’ method for locating mobile phones with transmitters.” Sherlock said sitting up and reaching for his laptop. “As I know Mycroft’s in his house I should concentrate on the location Lestrade.” 

“Is it really worth all this trouble you’re going to? You could just ask.” John replied smiling, knowing he was winding Sherlock up.

“It’s more fun this way. Plus have you ever known Mycroft to give me a straight answer.” The corner of Sherlock’s mouth turned up. “If Lestrade had a smart phone this would be a lot easier.”

“Like the phone in a Study in pink?” John asked Sherlock grunted in response he still hated the fact John had called their case that. Sherlock ruffled his fingers through his hair, irritated.

“I can’t think straight, nothing’s making sense.” He poked the screen on his laptop. “I think I may have Encephalitis.” John put his head in his hands and let out a long breath.

“Sherlock you’ve been looking up Chicken pox on the internet haven’t you.” John said through his fingers.

“I might have…” Sherlock replied.

“You do not have a brain infection, you’re tired, sore and all of those things are overloading that brilliant brain of yours.” John dropped his hands. “I think I might actually have an idea that may give you the answer you’re looking for. While you were asleep I called around Greg’s, he’s not there.”

 

John went up to his bedroom. Sherlock phoned Mycroft as John had instructed. He’d been told to make ‘pleasant’ conversation for five minutes, and to listen. Gladstone jumped on his lap and Sherlock smoothed him calming himself as he spoke to Mycroft.

“How’s the diet?” Sherlock sniggered.

“Going very well at the moment considering I can’t eat anything.” Mycroft replied flatly. Sherlock scratched his arm unconsciously pulling back his hand back as Gladstone growled. “How are the spot’s brother? Itching?” Sherlock frowned. A phone rang in the background on Mycroft’s side.

“I’m very sore thank you, but I’ve managed not to scratch any spots.” Sherlock replied as he heard a voice answer the ringing phone.

“Hello John.” The voice said. Sherlock grinned from ear to ear. How perfectly simple.

“I’m sorry about that Sherlock.” Mycroft replied. Everything went quiet on the line for a moment Sherlock assumed Mycroft had put his hand over the phone. Sherlock coughed to get Mycroft’s attention. “Sorry brother.” Mycroft answered. “My PA has just arrived. I’ll have to cut this call short.” Then he hung up. Sherlock was smirking when John came down the stairs.

“I guess you were right then Sherlock. I’m a bit surprised.” John said smiling.

“You are brilliant John, or average and I have actually got Encephalitis.” Sherlock said, John sat down next to him and wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders.

“Behave Sherlock, if I thought for a second you might have Encephalitis do you think I’d be sat here kissing you?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not….mmm.” John smiled against Sherlock’s lips as he kissed them softly, he could do this all day. It was if his Sherlock’s lips were made to fit together with his. Then someone rang the doorbell. Sherlock jumped up excitedly. “My delivery!” He shouted. “John could you please give them a hand bringing it up the stairs. I’ll go and wait in my bedroom.”

 

“Sherlock!” John shouted after humping boxes up the stairs for 10 minutes. “Why the hell have you bought 600 bottles of calamine lotion? Sherlock popped his head around his bedroom door. 

“Having a bath of course. Could you help me unscrew the caps?” Sherlock walked into the bathroom.

“Have you been watching Southpark?” He said following with a box. “Cartman did exactly the same thing.”

“Sounds like an intelligent person.” Sherlock said putting the plug in the bath. John sighed, maybe Sherlock did have Encephalitis after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's chicken pox have reached their onclusion so John takes him out to the fair.

John couldn’t possibly play another game of Monopoly. Sherlock didn’t play fair, and was banned from being the banker after the first game. Sherlock argued that he should be paid for being the banker inline with current bonus rates. After John had said disagreed Sherlock had resorted to black mail and old fashioned seduction. Unfortunately John couldn’t resist the blue eyes and the languid kisses Sherlock trailed up his neck. He’d lost every game intentionally.

The very last pox mark had finally healed over. Sherlock looked a bit sore but the bounce in his step had returned. Today he was allowed to leave the flat, and it couldn’t happen too soon. John didn’t even have time to eat breakfast before Sherlock pounced on him and dragged both him and Gladstone out into the street.

“Freedom!” Sherlock shouted dashing one way then another unable to decide where he was going.

“Sherlock.” John grabbed Sherlock’s arm to get his attention. “I have a surprise for you. It’s something my mum and dad took me to do after Harry and I had the chicken pox.” Sherlock smiled as a car pulled up at the side of them.

“Morning John, Sherlock.” Lestrade smiled brightly and gestured them into the car. Sherlock jumped into the passenger seat as John and Gladstone climbed into the back.

“So where are we going then?” Sherlock inquired buzzing in his seat as he struggled to put his seatbelt on over his coat.

“Aren’t you going to deduce that?” Lestrade asked pulling away from the curb.

“I think the excitement of being ‘let out’ has overloaded him Greg.” John said smiling. Sherlock looked in the drivers mirror and frowned at him.

“My mind is working perfectly. It’s somewhere we can’t get to via public transport, a taxi would be too expensive. You’ve brought Gladstone and Greg with us so it isn’t an activity for dogs. You’re both wearing boots which suggests that rough ground will be involved, possibly a field. I also noticed that John’s pocket is jingling rather more than usual which suggests extra change. Now what would be in a field that we would possibly enjoy? A fair!” Sherlock smirked. 

“I told you he’d get it!” John said as Greg passed a ten pound note over his shoulder.

 

The fair was bigger than John had expected. The rollercoaster he’d planned to take Sherlock on seemed enormous, and rather high. There were some definite loops involved. Not at all like the one he and Harry had been on when they were little. John was starting to have second thoughts. Sherlock stood by his side, stealing Lestrade’s candy floss when he thought he wasn’t looking.

“We have to go on this Sherlock.” John said swallowing hard. 

“Dull.” Sherlock replied bending down to feed some cotton candy to Gladstone.

“Will you stop feeding him that bloody stuff it’s no good for him!” John said pulling Sherlock’s hand away. Lestrade looked over at them.

“You bloody bastard, you’ve been nicking my candy floss!” Lestrade accused. Sherlock brushed the remaining floss off his jacket.

“Oh look the queue’s gone, come on John.” Sherlock put Gladstone’s lead in Lestrade’s hand and pushed John toward the rollercoaster.

John and Sherlock sat on the seat together as the bar was pulled down on their laps. John squirmed around a bit.

“I’m not sure this is safe Sherlock maybe we should get off.” John said fear showing in his voice.

“It’s fine John, we saw people get off earlier and they all seemed ok. Apart from that man with the one leg.” Sherlock grinned. The car took off. John felt the wind blowing through his hair as the climbed up toward the first drop. He grabbed Sherlock’s hand for dear life and held on. He really was getting to old for this. They reached the top, John looked down and screamed as his stomach lurched.

 

“That was brilliant. Want another go?” Sherlock said excited. John’s legs had turned to jelly and he was feeling rather green.

“Why don’t you go on with Greg?” John looked over at Greg who was shaking his head.

“I don’t do any rides that turn you upside down.” Greg replied scratching Gladstone’s head. Sherlock stuck his bottom lip out.

“Go on your own, I’ll wait for you.” John said taking a sip of water from the bottle Lestrade handed him. Sherlock handed his coat to John and dashed over to the ride entrance like a kid. John looked over at Lestrade. “That’s not exactly how I remembered a rollercoaster.” Lestrade smiled.

“You’re getting old mate. I’m going to get a burger, do you want anything?” John shook his head in response he didn’t think he could keep much down after that ride.

 

Sherlock rode the rollercoaster two more times before he decided he was hungry. They made their way over to an ice cream stand got a 99 each and sat on the grass verge. Sherlock seemed bored again.

“So John, you remember these things when you were a kid?” Lestrade asked, John nodded.

“Harry and I used to love all the rides. We always used to try and win one of the prizes on the stalls. I always wanted one of those huge gorillas but we never won.” John smiled remembering. “It was good fun though.” Sherlock looked over at them. He’d bitten the end off his cone scoped a bit off and was feeding Gladstone a mini ice cream. 

“Do you mind if Gladstone and I take a little walk?” Sherlock asked. John was lying back on the grass next to Lestrade enjoying the sunshine.

“No, enjoy yourself.” John replied. Sherlock walked down to the stalls.

 

It was the biggest stuffed gorilla he had ever seen and luckily it was on the shooting gallery stall. Sherlock didn’t consider himself a bad shot and he could easily pull it off. A pound a go, not bad at all. Sherlock paid he pound and picked up the pellet gun. He hit 10 duck’s in a row. The stall owner asked him what prise he would like and Sherlock pointed at the gorilla.

“No you can’t have that. You have to win ten times in a row to get that. You can have a pencil or a rubber.” The owner said smugly. Sherlock beckoned the stall owner over to him.

“Now it doesn’t say that anywhere, and by law you have to inform your customers.” Sherlock smiled. “Now you get one of two choices here. I could tell your wife over there that you’re sleeping with the ticket boy at the Helter-skelter. Or alternatively you could give me the prize I won, and not cheat any other customers today.” Sherlock grinned as the stuffed Gorilla was pushed into his face. 

 

“John, John!” Sherlock dashed over to the verge where John was. Gladstone happily running beside him panting. John opened his eyes and sat up, and was presented with a huge gorilla. John smiled rubbing its fur.

“Thank you Sherlock I’ve always wanted one of these.” John wanted to kiss him, but Lestrade was there. He let his fingers linger on Sherlock’s hand and looked into his eyes hoping he’d understand. The corner of Sherlock’s mouth turned up in response. Lestrade sat up next to John and looked at his gift.

“That’s really thoughtful Sherlock.” Lestrade said as he filled Gladstone’s travel bowl with water. “Come on Gladstone.” Gladstone bounded over and started to lap up the water. “Hey I know what, why don’t you two go on another ride. They have a haunted house down there, might be just the thing for you Sherlock. I can take care of Gladstone, I’m really enjoying lying about in the sun.” Lestrade smiled to himself thinking of the fake gore and Sherlock’s need to point out every error. John looked over at Sherlock a sly smile on his face.

“Come on Sherlock you’ll enjoy this.” 

 

The queue for the haunted how was a bit longer than the queues for the other rides. As usual Sherlock was impatient.

“Why do you want me to go on this? It’s ludicrous, I look at dead bodies on a daily basis. It can’t scare me.” Sherlock felt John slip his hand into his.

“You’ll see Sherlock.” They got into the car, the ticket boy pulled the bar down over their laps and smirked. Sherlock rolled his eyes, even the ticket boy knew it was going to be rubbish he thought to himself. The doors swung open and they entered the house. A severed head popped up in front of them.

“See I told you mmmmm…” John’s lips pressed against Sherlock and he felt a hand slide up the inside of his thigh. He reached out in the dark and grabbed a fistful of John’s shirt using it to pull him closer. John left Sherlock’s mouth and kissed down his neck. Sherlock’s eyes darted around, he could hear people behind them, and he was starting to get, no he had an erection. His eyes rolled back in his head. John pressed the heel of his had against Sherlock’s cock. “John…” Sherlock moaned in response. John bit down on his neck and he could see white sparks. “Mmmm…” 

John helped a shaking Sherlock out of the car taking his jacket off so Sherlock could hold it in front of himself, to cover the consequences of the ride. Lestrade had decided to meet them at the entrance, he looked confused as Sherlock stood dumbfounded.

“God you look pale Sherlock, are you alright?” Lestrade reached out to steady him. Sherlock’s eyes grew wide. “Shit did something bite you in there?” Lestrade said looking at the purple bruise forming on Sherlock’s neck.

“You could say that.” Sherlock replied pulling his collar up. John’s face remained blank as Lestrade’s gaze darted between the two of them.

“I think that may be my favourite ride you know.” John said keeping a straight face. Sherlock cleared his throat.

“I just need to pop to the toilet. But it was interesting I think I’d like another go.”


End file.
